


Bleeding Roses

by Zail



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Biblical Imagery (Abrahamic Religions), Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, just dont read that if you dont want to see it, teo endings, theres slight sexual content in the second ending, this is technically unfinished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28819935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zail/pseuds/Zail
Summary: It was an odd occurrence for the blond once every few months, a silent knock of 3 just after the sun bathed the sky in a beautiful hue of crimson before blanketing the city of York New of darkness. There stood Kuroro, always with a box of metal clutched in his thin hands. In the other, was a sinful bouquet of roses that much resembled the spilled blood the man in black reaped to obtain the cases of metal shells. They held far more precious objects that no ruby could compare to; the scarlet eyes. Kuroro, the reaper of the Kurtans turned savior, though his true heinous stain could not be removed with only the glass cases gleaming dully against the light.There are 2 endings to the story, the second ending is bracketed off.
Relationships: Kurapika/Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer
Kudos: 33





	Bleeding Roses

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: There is mild sexual content in the second ending, just avoid that if you don't want to read it. It's nothing like I usually write though, so don't worry about it.

It was an odd occurrence for the blond once every few months, a silent knock of 3 just after the sun bathed the sky in a beautiful hue of crimson before blanketing the city of York New of darkness. There stood Kuroro, always with a box of metal clutched in his thin hands. In the other, was a sinful bouquet of roses that much resembled the spilled blood the man in black reaped to obtain the cases of metal shells. They held far more precious objects that no ruby could compare to; the scarlet eyes. Kuroro, the reaper of the Kurtans turned savior, though his true heinous stain could not be removed with only the glass cases gleaming dully against the light.

With a facade of fiery hatred and light-placed annoyance, Kurapika would always let the man in, plucking the case from his pale hands with a child-like attitude. He’d pull the shell of silver from the canisters only to stare at the eyes with a deep expression of guilt, his beautiful features tugging downwards to the lifeless eyes. Kurapika always hoped they would suck him in, ceasing his existence and rescuing him from the distant and haunting screams of his fallen brethren.

Each encounter would end the same.

Kuroro always managed to find a cup in Kurapika’s apartment, despite wherever the blond tried to hide them, the bleeding roses centering themselves in the middle of the living room, basking the room in their sweet fragrance, their significance a cruel reminder. He’d lead Kurapika to his couch, kneeling before the blond, hands on each of the blond’s knees as he repeated the taunting question of, “do you love me?” His blunt nails dug crescents into the fabric of the boy’s pants, his eyes held the void, drowning the Kurta in their inky depths as he breathed the question. 

“No.” Was always Kurapika’s answer, despite the pain tugging his heartstrings as he uttered his reply. 

He hadn’t hated Kuroro for a long, long time; couldn’t.

“Then I shall retrieve another.” Kuroro would always reply, determination ringing despite a sad smile gracing his thin lips. His cold fingers would idly rub Kurapika’s sinewy knees.

He would ply Kurapika’s hands into his own, kissing each of his knuckles with a loving admiration. Kurapika never pushed Kuroro away.

He’d leave promptly after, always sparing Kurapika one last somber glance by the door before departing, leaving the blond alone with his terrible thoughts.

All encounters had ended the same: a sinful bouquet of roses, chaste kisses, eyes of crimson, and a void in Kurapika’s heart.

It had been 10 years.

It commenced the same as always, a soft knock of three on Kurapika’s wooden door, pink and orange rays painting the sky with masterful technique. The blond was sipping a glass of wine in a goblet unbefitting of his ethereal beauty with a fraying book between his fingertips, that familiar strum of his heartstrings fluttered throughout his frame at the sound. With haste in his steps, he pulled the door open, no flimsy facade of hatred present.

There were no roses.

Only Kuroro with a shell of silver clutched between his cold fingers. There was an uncharacteristically sad gleam in those obsidian irises that Kurapika had come to adore. 

“Kurapika…” Chrollo almost whispered.

Kurapika pushed the door open to invite the man clad in black in. He stepped inside, slipping off his shoes before taking the blond by the hand and wordlessly leading him to his bedroom. Pushing the boy to the bed gently, he took his usual stance between his legs, placing his hands on those thin knees. 

The fear of the unknown loomed over Kurapika as he stared at the silver covering, there was something different about this metal shell. The usual metallic gleam on the case was replaced by a light skin of rust, its decay kissing the edges with age. With his breath in his throat, he removed the sheath.

Pairo’s lifeless head stared back at Kurapika, a look of fear forever frozen on the reaped boy’s face, dead crimson eyes stared into him, his rosy skin an artificial blue, those soft chocolate locks morphed to course pieces of frayed string, the memory of the Pairo’s calamitous head forever burning a painful memory behind the blond’s eyes.

The glass canister fell from Kurapika’s dainty hands, only to fall into Kuroro’s worn ones. He gently placed the canister beneath the wooden bed frame, away from Kurapika’s damaged state. 

Tears welled in Kurapika’s eyes as he blankly stared at his hands, the ghost of Pairo’s lifeless head behind a case of glass and formaldehyde haunting his vision. The sight of that burned a raging hole in his very soul.

Crystalline tears began to spill from his eyes, dripping down his cheeks like a spring stream, finally unthawing after a frigid winter.

Kuroro simply watched, his obsidian eyes staring lovingly into Kurapika’s illuminated crimson ones. 

The spring stream that was Kurapika’s tears began to course rapidly, His sniffles quickly turned to sobs, and his form shook from the weight of his cries. The stream transformed into a raging river, flowing rapidly down his jasmine-white cheeks. He leaned his head against Kuroro’s clad fur shoulder, uncaring if his tears stained the expensive white pelt. 

A cold hand came to cradle the base of Kurapika’s neck, those familiar osseous fingers tracing soft circles there and tangling into the locks of gold.

“Why did you do it?” Kurapika sobbed, his nails digging into the leather of Kuroro’s lower shoulder. He felt the material ripple beneath his clutches.

“Shh,” was his reply to the hysterical blond.

Kurapika fell from the bed, landing in Kuroro’s lap. The ravenet pulled the other man into his chest, wrapping the free edges of his coat around his shaking form.

Kurapika was a pretty crier.

They two remained there for an unknown amount of time, as Kurapika’s sobs quietly turned to sniffles. Kuroro could only card his golden locks and place soft kisses to the crown of his and face in response, he did not speak.

Kurapika finally looked up to the other man, his eyes almost matched the shade of his dull crimson irises, wet lashes clung together lightly, a faint blush tainted the blond’s jasmine-white skin, and lips of ripe cherries. Kurapika was simply an angel in hell, his ethereal beauty unfitting of the life he possessed. He deserved to be worshipped, clad in gold and the richest of gems. He did not deserve any pain.

Kuroro wiped the remaining trails of crystalline tears from Kurapika’s eyes. 

“Why?” Kurapika asked in a whisper, though his question was more a plea.

Kuroro kissed his forehead at that, pulling back and looking into those bleeding eyes of ruby. “Do you love me?” The question arose once more.

“Yes.” 

Kuroro beamed at that, a tear of his own sliding down his cheek. He pulled the blond into an embrace.

There the unlikely lovers resided, the cloak of death draped over the escaped angel’s body, osseous fingers that reaped the very people Kurapika loved tangled in his gold-spun locks, crimson stains that tarnished Kuroro’s soul slowly cleansed with loving caresses.

The angel and the reaper; a bond defying all.

\-------------------------------------------------  
(There are sexual references in this ending.)

“Why did you do it?” Kurapika sobbed, his nails digging into the leather of Kuroro’s lower shoulder. He felt the material ripple beneath his clutches.

“Shh,” was his reply to the hysterical blond.

Kurapika fell from the bed, landing in Kuroro’s lap. The ravenet pulled the other man into his chest, wrapping the free edges of his coat around his shaking form.

Kurapika was a pretty crier.

They two remained there for an unknown amount of time, as Kurapika’s sobs quietly turned to sniffles. Kuroro could only card his golden locks and place soft kisses to the crown of his and face in response, he did not speak.

Kurapika finally looked up to the other man, his eyes almost matched the shade of his dull crimson irises, wet lashes clung together lightly, a faint blush tainted the blond’s jasmine-white skin, and lips of ripe cherries. Kurapika was simply an angel in hell, his ethereal beauty unfitting of the life he possessed. He deserved to be worshipped, clad in gold and the richest of gems. He did not deserve any pain.

Kuroro wiped the remaining trails of crystalline tears from Kurapika’s eyes. 

“Why?” Kurapika asked in a whisper, though his question was more a plea.

Kuroro kissed his forehead at that, pulling back and looking into those bleeding eyes of ruby. “Do you love me?” The question arose once more.

“Yes.” 

Kuroro beamed at that, a tear of his own sliding down his cheek. He pulled the blond into an embrace. “Then let me love you properly,” he whispered, kissing the shell of Kurapika’s ear.

Kurapika quickly forgot the canister of sin beneath his bed as Kuroro’s love unraveled psychically, his light touches upon his lithe frame were mind-numbingly pleasurable. His rampant thoughts quieted by the very reaper of his people, the reaper turned savior. The sin of death finally cleansed as they made love under the soft blanket of night.

**Author's Note:**

> So uh, this was supposed to the 10-year fic, but I realized I'm probably not going to finish it, so I posted the main excerpt. The doc for this is around 6k words right now, but I'd like to work on other projects. This had a good running, but yeah... I may just post the unfinished draft in a separate chapter if you guys want.
> 
> This has not been edited since November 28th, 2020.


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